


A Gift for the Emperor

by NickelModelTales



Series: Erotic Hypnosis In the Ancient World [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adultery, Ancient Rome, Aristocracy, Betrayal, Debauchery, F/F, F/M, Faustian Bargain, Gladiators, Hypnotism, Master/Slave, Porn With Plot, Revenge, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: An erotic hypnosis story set in Ancient Rome.  Julia, a wealthy and ambitious young woman, schemes to harness the power of hypnosis.  Using this, she hopes to win the favor of Emperor Caligula and become the most powerful woman in the Empire.
Series: Erotic Hypnosis In the Ancient World [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956988
Comments: 14
Kudos: 16





	1. Betrayal is Life, Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GrammarGrrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrammarGrrrl/gifts).



> Some time ago, I wrote a hypnosis story set in Ancient Greece. A reader politely commented that she was hoping for more debauchery... which seemed like both apt criticism and a writing challenge.

**_Ancient Rome, 38 AD_ **

Eighty thousand spectators leaned forward in their seats, all watching the floor of the Coliseum intently. Within the arena, seven remaining gladiators, divided into two separate teams, circled one another. Their weapons were at the ready. Every warrior was tense, panting heavily, twitching with adrenaline. In the dirt at their feet, many other men lay, dead… or barely alive. The battle was nearly over.

The packed crowd was beginning to chant, “ ** _Kill! Kill! Kill!_** ”

In a private luxury box close to the action, Julia Cranaus and her friends watched from cushioned seating-couches. The ladies all held goblets of fine wine… but for the moment, the drinks were entirely forgotten. The suspense of the battle was mesmerizing.

“ ** _C’mon, Valens!!!_** ” yelled Valeria, sitting just beside Julia. Valeria always rooted for the home team. “ ** _Slaughter ‘em!!!_** ”

“Valens will lose,” pronounced Julia. “They just don’t know they’re defeated yet. See Gragor the Barbarian? He’ll land the kill blow.”

Julia’s other friends – Aquilia, Drusilla, Tarquinia, Scribonia, and Livilla – all reacted with derision. “Against **_Valens the Invincibles?_** ” snorted Aquilia. “As if.”

“Twenty thousand _denari_ on the barbarians, then,” Julia snapped. “Who’s in?”

The other young women hesitated. They were all wives to some of Rome’s most powerful citizens – senators, generals, proconsulars, magistrates, prefects. Each had piles of money to spare. Twenty thousand _denari_ could be spent in one shopping spree and never be missed.

Still… Julia never gambled unless she was certain about the outcome. 

“Come on, then” harrumphed Julia. “Quick, before its all over. Who’s in?”

“Me,” said Valeria defiantly. “Twenty thousand.”

Tarquinia and Scribonia nodded, indicating they would match that bet.

“ ** _Fifty_** thousand!” declared Drusilla, defiance in her eyes. She tossed her head, causing her thick, black hair to flick through the air.

Drusilla and Julia glared at one another. While the two shared many friends, they had grown into the bitterest of rivals.

“Fine,” smirked Julia. “Fifty thousand from you. I’m game.”

The great crowd suddenly roared in excitement. Rutilius, captain of the Valens team, had lunged forward with his sword. A barbarian shrieked as the blade sank into his chest, and the man fell instantly. There were now two barbarians and four Valens.

Throughout the Coliseum, the crowd leapt to their feet and screamed in excitement. There was nothing the Roman mob loved more than the last kill of a battle.

“Oh, this is over,” Drusilla sneered. “This is so over. Julia, you can pay me-“

Gragor the Barbarian made a hand signal. Without warning, the Valens flanking Rutilius suddenly turned, plunging his sword into the Roman captain’s lower back. Rutilius let out a bloodcurdling scream, and crumpled to his knees.

As one, the crowd shouted in disbelief and rage. Spectators began throwing half-eaten fruit and trash into the arena.

“A betrayal???” screeched Valeria, outraged. “What the fuck?!?”

In the confusion, the two remaining Valens gladiators were swiftly cut down. Soon, Gragor stood before the kneeling Rutilius, a wicked grin on his ugly, bloodied face.

Some in the crowd began a new chant: “ ** _Death! Death! Death!_** ”

Gragor swung his sword, and it was all over. The victorious barbarian captain raised his arms, preening for the spectators. The crowd roared back.

Julia laughed in triumph. She reclined in her seat, beaconing the wine servant. There were always plenty of servants on hand.

After all, she was Julia Tatia Cranaus, the wife of Pandion Cranaus, one of the richest shipping merchants in the whole Empire. A mere seventeen years old – fully grown, by Roman standards – Julia was lovely beyond all compare. She was tall and quite thin, with large, green eyes and dark red lips that naturally puckered. Her cheekbones were high and delicate, which gave her a very regal quality indeed. Her eyes burned with a sultry fire.

Julia also matched the beauty of her face with the sleekness of her body. Roman men usually liked their women to have small busts, but curvy hips and generous bottoms. Julia had developed a larger-than-usual chest and graceful hips, but her waist was so tiny that she presented a flawless hourglass figure. In the silk dress which hugged her form tightly, this figure was on vivid display. Julia’s long legs, graceful arms, delicate hands, and thin neck completed a body that was envied by all who saw her. Many lovestruck men who saw her wondered if she might be a goddess.

Strictly speaking, Julia was not a noblewoman. Her family had not descended from aristocracy, nor did her husband have a title. Nonetheless, Julia mingled with the women who populated the most elite of Roman society. All of her friends with her in the luxury box were young, beautiful, and wealthy… but their husbands had Imperial titles.

Julia’s natural charisma tended to erase these class distinctions. Like now. She applauded wildly as Gragor waved at the crowd, thrilling his supporters and goading the haters.

With a livid expression, Drusilla turned to Julia. “Gragor cheated to win that battle!” she accused. “That shouldn’t count!”

“No, no,” Valeria grumbled. “Betrayals among gladiators are rare, but they’re not against the combat rules.”

The other women looked disgruntled, but no one argued.

“How did you know?” Tarquinia asked Julia. “I mean… how could you have known that that man would turn on Captain Rutilius?”

Julia laughed again. “Everyone knows Rutilius treated his men like shit. Of course one of them was open to a bribe. You didn’t see the hand gestures between Gragor and the traitor?”

“It wasn’t a fair fight,” insisted Drusilla.

“Betrayal is life, baby,” Julia taunted. “Now, about the _denari_ you ladies owe me…”

Across the Coliseum, trumpets blared in fanfare. All conversations fell silent as the entire crowd rose to their feet in respectful silence. Julia and her friends rose, too.

The Imperial Platform, easily the grandest luxury box in the enormous stadium, was filling with the Praetorian Guard. The elite soldiers marched crisply, each in perfect synchronization. Their silver armor glinted in the midafternoon sun. Their dark red capes fluttered in the light breeze.

“The emperor is attending?” Julia asked in surprise. “But… most of the games are done.”

“Maybe he got bored up in the palace,” wondered Valeria.

There was a second fanfare, this one grander than the first. A tall young man strode onto the platform, thin and handsome. He wore a toga of shimmering white silk, with a crown of laurel leaves encircling his brow. The man had regal features, especially his hawklike nose and piercing blue eyes. Even across the chasm of the Coliseum, Julia was drawn to the man’s handsomeness.

The man raised his right hand, a single, plain gesture.

At once, the thick crowd roared in approval. “ ** _Hail Caesar!_** ” they whooped and bellowed. “ ** _Hail Mighty Caesar!_** ”

“That’s Emperor Caligula?” Julia murmured to Valeria. She’d never seen Rome’s new ruler before.

“That’s him,” replied Valeria. “Only twenty-six years old, and master of the world. Single, too.”

The emperor waved again, but seemed not to notice the crowd. He turned his back.

Upon the Imperial Platform, there were three thrones, the throne in the center being the grandest. With the authority of one who is accustomed to absolute power, Rome’s monarch assumed the center seat. He gestured once more.

And as one, all the spectators sat back down. Conversations throughout the stadium resumed, but at a respectful volume.

Julia settled back onto her couch. Her eyes never left the emperor. There was something about him, something alluring. Suddenly, Julia found herself recalling every detail, every opinion, every rumor she’d ever heard about the man. She didn’t doubt that they were all true.

As Julia watched, a young and pretty woman appeared on the Imperial platform. She was wearing a delicate purple dress, one sporting a dye that was quite rare, even in the heart of the Empire. Her long hair was tied up in ribbons, in the Mediterranean fashion, and a sparkling necklace of silver and gems glittered about her throat.

The emperor beaconed, and the mysterious lady sat in the lesser throne to his left. Immediately, the two began chatting.

“Who’s that woman?” Julia wanted to know. “Caligula’s wife? His consort?”

“Her? That’s Tullia Lucretia Macro,” replied Drusilla, jealousy simmering in her voice. “She and her husband presented the emperor with the first full-body statute of him, at least since his coronation.”

“Now Tullia’s husband is being named the governor of Egypt,” Tarquinia added tartly. “Little bitch. I’m certain she’s fucking Caligula, too. See how she flirts with him?”

“Wait,” said Julia, “her husband, Quintus Naevius Macro… the biggest idiot in Rome… is going to rule Egypt? All for a statue?”

“This is the New Age,” Valeria snorted. “If you please or amuse our new emperor, he showers you with wealth. Bribes to his vanity are eagerly accepted.”

“Shh!” fretted Tarquinia, casting worried looks about.

“Oh, its just us girls here,” scoffed Valeria.

Julia said nothing. Her gaze was still upon the emperor. _Caligula awarded the governorship of Egypt, all for a statue?_ Was his ego so easily flattered?

Julia reflexively crossed her legs. Wheels in her head were turning. The Imperial governor of Achaea had been removed, and it was rumored that the emperor was looking for a replacement. Outside of Rome itself, Achaea was the most renown land in the Empire; it contained Athens, Sparta, Corinth, and Macedonia. The gem of the Empire!

The young woman smiled to herself. She and Pandion, her husband, would do well as the Imperial rulers of Greece. The thought was almost… sexually arousing.

Meanwhile, down on the Coliseum floor, the next battle was being set up. But Gragor the Barbarian, an irrepressible showman, was still working the crowd. He was still grandstanding, waving both of his meaty arms in the air. The man was positively huge! He bristled with sweaty muscles and scars. His face was lumpy and ugly, but there was an undeniable, savage muscularity about him.

“Ladies,” Julia said, “I’ll collect my winnings now.” She turned in her seat to gesture to the luxury box’s chief steward.

The steward, a well-groomed fellow and one of the businessmen who ran the Coliseum, hurried to Julia’s side.

Julia smiled, then indicated Gragor. “How much to have the champion pleasure me?”

The steward looked shocked. “My lady… the man’s a **_barbarian!_** He might-“

“I can handle him,” Julia said confidently. “Strip him naked, take him to one of the pleasure-rooms, and then chain him to the bed. How much?”

The steward pursed his lips together, making rapid calculations. He’d overheard the sums that Julia and her friends had been wagering. “I’d… imagine perhaps fifty thousand _denari_ would be a fair sum?”

“Of course,” laughed Julia. “Lady Drusilla here will pay you.”

Drusilla’s eyes flashed with rage. But she said nothing.

“I’ve never been pleasured by a barbarian before,” Julia said playfully. She impishly licked her lips. “Hmm. Oh, steward? Don’t wash Gragor off. Leave the blood on him.”

*** *** ***

The house Julia shared with her husband was a small palace, built in the Palatine, which was Rome’s most exclusive neighborhood. The house had twenty servants and slaves, all tasked with keeping the dedicant mansion sparkling and clean. Julia wanted for nothing.

That evening, she and her husband, Pandion, dined in their private courtyard. Pandion was the rare non-Roman to obtain fantastic wealth in the heart of the Empire. He was a shipping merchant, responsible for a fleet of over three hundred vessels, all ferrying commerce to all over the Mediterranean. Few knew the map of the world as well as he.

As usual, Julia and Pandion dined Roman-style, meaning they lay on their sides on plush couches while eating. Julia eyed her husband. Pandion had just turned thirty years old, and his lean body was beginning to develop a small pot belly. The man had a gaunt but handsome face, framed with one of those well-trimmed beards that the Greeks favored.

Preoccupied, Pandion was reaching for his third spicedbread.

“Darling,” Julia said delicately, “I was at the Coliseum today. Do you know whom else was there?”

“Uh… Julius and his wife?” grumbled Pandion. He spoke with a thick Greek accent.

“The emperor, my love,” Julia said. “Emperor Caligula himself came, right at the end of the games. And then, when he grew bored, he commanded that the games be extended! Right for his own amusement! They had to pull gladiators out of the barracks and throw them into the arena.”

“Hmmgh,” Pandion grunted.

The doors to the kitchens opened. Tatia and Avita, the two new slaves, glided forward. The young women carried a tray of roast pheasant and dried fruit, plus a fresh pitcher of wine. Immediately, Pandion’s eyes lit on the young servers.

The ends of Julia’s mouth turned down. Despite their drab tunics, one could admire that Tatia and Avita each had supple bodies and plain but lovely faces. Both girls were just sixteen years of age. Julia suspected that Pandion had bought the girls for their beauty, not their abilities with a broom and serving-platter.

Moving silently, the girls set the pheasant platter before their master. They refilled goblets, then stepped aside. Pandion’s gaze remained on their slender bodies.

“Darling,” Julia said with an edge in her voice.

He husband glanced at her. “Eh?” he mumbled. “What?”

“Darling,” Julia said impatiently, “don’t you think you could be the next Governor of Achaea?”

Now she had Pandion’s attention. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Julia raised her goblet. “I think you should rule Greece on behalf of the emperor. After all, that is your homeland right? Who better to dominate Achaea than you?”

Looking suspicious, Pandion frowned. “You know that’s impossible. I’m not Roman. Those in the Imperial court would never support me.”

Julia waved a hand. “Darling, the Imperial court means nothing. Emperor Caligula would appoint you. Once he taps your shoulder, Greece is ours. Er, yours.”

Pandion opened his mouth to argue.

“I heard today,” Julia said quickly, “that Quintus Macro was been awarded Egypt. If that no-class brown-noser can be elevated, why not you? You’re much smarter and wealthier than he is.”

Pandion glared across the table at his wife, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “You’ve been gossiping with your catty friends again, I see.”

He seized two knives and began slicing up the pheasant.

“Just hear me out,” Julia insisted. “Caligula, he is young and inexperienced. By the gods, he was only crowned last year! And he’s a fool. He’s only now learning how his government works.” She leaned forward, her voice gaining strength. “There are prizes, great prizes, yet to be awarded, my love. We should get you into consideration for one of those. Before others snatch them.”

Pandion grimaced. “Julia…”

“Now is the time to push for this, my love! Or are you content being the lowly Greek moneygrubber for all of your life?”

This barb angered Pandion. He stabbed the pheasant with a snarl on his face.

“You think I haven’t thought of sucking up to Caligula?” he snarled. “Of course I have! All of Rome has.”

“Then do it,” insisted Julia. “If we can present the emperor with a suitable trinket-“

“Stop,” Pandion barked, slamming a palm onto the table. His scowl grew deeper. “You remember Gaius Speratus? The fat slavetrader who would eat all the quail eggs at our parties?”

Julia thought quickly. “Oh, yes. The warty guy with the big mole on his chin?”

A look of disgust flickered over Pandion’s face. “Yeah,” he grunted. “He’s the one. So one of my customers told me that, eh, maybe a month ago, ol’ Speratus has the same idea as you. Except he conniving to be the senator of Gaul, or something. So he did a little snooping, learned about Caligula’s tastes, and devised what he thought would be the ultimate amusement for our new ruler.”

Julia hadn’t heard this story. She reached for her wine.

“Emperor Caligula fancies himself a modern-day Julius Caesar, and he’s itching to launch a war of conquest, somewhere,” Pandion went on. “Britain, maybe. And Speratus learns about these ambitions, see? So Speratus hires a playwright and a troupe of actors, and they put on a new play. A play where the glorious Emperor Caligula sends his armies across the world and conquers all! Glory to the Empire!”

“That’s brilliant,” said Julia, impressed.

“So Speratus thought,” Pandion agreed. “Then, the day comes to present this little play. Speratus and his actors go up to the Imperial palace. They perform, right there in the Throne Room. And Caligula absolutely loves it.”

Julia listened, spellbound.

“But then,” her husband continued, his tone growing dark, “the first battle scene of the play arrives. The actors begin dueling with wooden swords. And Caligula interrupts the performance. ‘ _I don’t get it,_ ’ he complains. ‘ _Why are they fighting with toys?_ ’ He thought the play would have real combat.”

“Oh,” said Julia, taken aback.

Pandion hacked off a strip of pheasant meat. “So Caligula orders his guards to supply the actors with **_real swords_**. And commanded they continue. And of course, the poor actors balk. Caligula grows angry. He forces the players to fight, or be speared by his guards. And when the actors start slaughtering one another, he becomes disgusted. ‘ _This isn’t realistic at all!_ ’ he complains. ‘ _Ugh,_ _I hate this! Kill them all._ ’ And the guard execute whatever actors remain.”

The Greek merchant stabbed the pheasant once more. “Caligula lets it be known, right there before the whole Imperial court, that he is extremely displeased with Speratus’ gift. ‘ _But I’m not vindictive,_ ’ he claims. ‘ _In fact, I’m going to do you a favor, old man. I’ll have the captain of my guard remove that ugly wart on your chin._ ’”

Julia yelped, reflexively covering her mouth with a hand. “Caligula chopped off the wart?”

“And the chin,” Pandion said grimly.

“I see,” reeled Julia, stunned.

Pandion locked an iron stare with his wife. “Caligula is a child, the world’s most powerful, dangerous child. He has the lusts and ambitions of a man, but his mind is infantile. To court him is to dance with serpents.” He pointed a firm finger at Julia. “As your husband, I forbid you to think about flattering Caligula, do you hear me? **_I forbid you._** ”

Julia and Pandion finished their meal in silence.

*** *** ***


	2. The Chariot-Master

The public baths were one of the few venues in Rome where citizens from all walks of life mingled. Commoners and aristocrats alike took delight in stripping naked and soaking in the warm, scented waters. What fun! During the springtime, summer, and harvest months, the city could be oppressively hot. Plus, the baths were the best location to find some casual sex, if you didn’t mind fornicating in public.

Julia and Valeria were walking down the steps into a freshly-prepared pool, enjoying the feel of moist air on their nude bodies. They attracted the attention of the nearby men, who grew stiff as they admired the two young women.

But Julia and Valeria were accustomed to ignoring such stares. “I was thinking of shopping later today,” Valeria said, rubbing water on her bare arms and stomach. “You want to come?”

“For what?” Julia wanted to know.

“Haven’t decided yet,” admitted Valeria. “Some more dresses, perhaps. Or another slave.” She glanced over the staring men. “A slave with a nice, long cock, perhaps. You know, the Palatine Slave Market now sells males who were weened on milk and honey? They say that makes for the sweetest cum.” She pouted. “I haven’t had a good fuck in **_ages._** ”

Julia scowled. Valeria’s husband, the honorable Cassius Maximus Brocchus, was a senator, corrupt and richer than Midas. Valeria would spend her entire life ridiculously pampered. She would never have to worry about her status or power. Her problems were trite.

Valeria lowered herself into the water, up to her shoulders. She straightened, then deliberately shook her hips, just to waggle her rear end. The young woman was proud of her tush, which she vainly considered the most desirable in all of Rome. The men staring at her didn’t seem to disagree.

“Listen,” harumphed Julia, “whom do we know in the Imperial court?”

“The emperor’s court?” Valeria frowned, reaching the end of the pool stairs. She was now standing stomach-deep in the clear pool. “Well, lots of people, of course. Really, anyone who snags an invite to the palace can be considered to be a member of the court. They say Emperor Caligula likes to bring Rome to him.”

“No, I mean…” Julia said, wondering how she could ask her question, yet not tip off her friend’s suspicions. “Whom do we know who is at the court and sees the emperor regularly? Like, at least once a week.”

“You’re starstruck!” Valeria laughed, a touch of cruelty in her voice. “You’re already married, you know. And Caligula has plenty of women.”

Annoyed, Julia said, “Just answer the question.” She knelt, lowering herself up to her neck in the water.

“Oh, right, I forgot,” said Valeria arrogantly. “Your husband doesn’t have any status, so you don’t know the slightest thing about how the palace works. Well. Hmm. Sorry, dear, no-one you know could get to see the emperor.”

Julia nodded absently, as if she wasn’t really interested in this conversation. She said, “No, no, I don’t really want to attend the parties. I was thinking… The anniversary of Caligula’s coronation is coming up. The festival tributes will pretty massive. I was thinking about joining a committee to commission a poem, something to be read to the masses. It would be nice to know more about our emperor before we paid for the poem.”

“Oh,” said Valeria. “Hmm. Well, you could talk to Rufus Mettius. Rufus the Doofus. You know Rufus, don’t you?”

The name sounded familiar. “Isn’t he the Byzantine guy who… made that speech…?” Julia guessed hopelessly.

The other woman threw a condescending look. “No, stupid. Rufus was a soldier, a centurion, or something. Back when Caligula was just a little boy, his dad was a major general. So Caligula used to travel with the army, and they supposedly dressed the kid up in ceremonial armor, just for fun.” Valeria snorted in derision. “Our friend Rufus was made captain of Caligula’s guard. Mind you, no-one thought Caligula would ever become emperor, so the guard detail was, like, Rufus and one other dude.

“Anyhoo,” Valeria went on, “Rufus and Caligula were never friends, but they spent a lot of time together on the road. Later, Rufus was made a general, and he lost some minor battle in Germania, or something. I forget. He left the army, and now he runs the chariot-house at Circus Maximus.”

“Oh gods!” Julia exclaimed. “Rufus! The Chariot-Master! Of course. His wife is that fat, sweaty bitch who is always fanning herself, right? I know him. So, he knew Caligula in his youth, eh…?”

“Yep,” said Valeria. “But Rufus is apparently sensitive about his connection to Caligula. I think the emperor treated him badly.“

Julia’s friend sighed, and then submerged completely. When she reemerged, with the cool water streaming off her sleek body, she wore an odd expression on her face.

“Funny thing,” Valeria remarked, reaching for a poolside washing-cloth. “You’re the second person to ask me about contacts in the Imperial palace.”

Julia froze. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Valeria said, scrubbing one arm. “Drusilla wanted to know basically the same thing you asked me: Whom do we know in Caligula’s circle?”

 ** _Drusilla!_** The name of Julia’s rival caused an unpleasant chill to race down her spine.

“Why would Drusilla ask that?” Julia said lightly, hoping that she sounded casual.

“Well,” replied Valeria, washing her hair, “word is, the emperor is looking to name an Imperial Governor of Achaea. And you know Drusilla. She’d push her own children before stampeding elephants if she thought it would gain her power. She’s looking to get her husband named to that post.”

Julia felt the color drain from her own face.

*** *** ***

Working quickly, Julia reached out to Rufus Mettius via a private messenger. The trick was to make her overture appear to be a business transaction, nothing more. Otherwise, Julia would arouse the suspicions of the Chariot-Master’s ever-suspicious wife.

After a little cajoling, Rufus agreed to stop by Julia’s house midmorning, but in three days hence. Julia spent the time waiting in a horrible temper. Patience was not a virtue she bore well. Somewhere, out in the city, Drusilla was pursuing her own gift for the emperor! What could it be? The more Julia wondered, the more she steamed.

When the day of Rufus’ visit finally came, Julia was well-prepared. She had ensured that her own husband would be away, reviewing his warehouses at the docks. Then she returned to her dressing-chamber, bathed, and had her servants wrap her in a new, customized dress of dark red silk. The garment hugged Julia’s torso, chest, and derriere very tightly, but opened up to expose the tops of her generous breasts. At Julia’ command, the servants cut a slit up the side of the skirt, which allowed one of her shapely legs to be exposed.

“Mmm… wonderful,” Julia remarked, as she inspected herself from every angle in the polished reflection-mirror. With her hair elaborately tied up and just the right amount of makeup, she looked alluring. More than any mortal man could resist.

*** *** ***

Rufus Mettius was much as Julia remembered him: A broad-shouldered, balding man in his late thirties, still attractive to the female eyes. The man was obviously ex-military, as he still had the build and gate of a soldier. His toga was wrapped to keep half of his chest and one arm completely bare, and Julia found herself briefly admiring his muscles.

“Rufus!” she said warmly, beaconing the fellow into her atrium. “So lovely to see you again!”

“Thank you, ma’am, thank you,” Rufus replied, gaping in admiration at the house. Julia had ensured that everything was sparkling clean. Fresh flowers had been placed in every Grecian urn only an hour ago.

Rufus gazed at his hostess, and his eyes visibly popped. Inside, Julia smiled to herself.

“Come in, come in,” gushed the beautiful young woman, taking Rufus by the arm. Pulling the man close to her, she propelled him into the house, gliding to a private sitting-chamber off the vestibulum. Here, the sitting couches were plush and close together. A small table with grapes, goblets, and a bottle of wine was waiting. The curtains were partly drawn, allowing a bit of soft daylight to stream inside. Faint incense was burning within the small hearth.

“Sit next to me,” cooed Julia, even though there were only two couches. The beautiful young woman poured the wine, setting a generous goblet before her guest.

“Er… yes…” Rufus murmured, still in awe of the luxury of his surroundings. “Well now… You and your husband, ma’am, you-“

“Call me Julia,” insisted the beautiful young woman, leaning close. She smiled warmly, briefly touching Rufus’ forearm.

“Julia, of course,” agreed Rufus. “Ah, so you and your husband were looking to sponsor a chariot in the Circus Maximus?”

“Yes, yes we were,” Julia lied. “I’ve always loved the races, you know. So thrilling.”

“Well, we have several sponsorship opportunities for exclusive patrons like yourself,” assured Rufus, his eyes lighting up. “In fact, two have arrived in Rome just this week. There’s an exciting young driver and his stallions from Illyricum, very promising-“

“Yes, tell me more,” purred Julia, wondering how she was to pivot this conversation into more fruitful topics. For the moment, she allowed Rufus to prattle on about chariots and horses and drivers. While he spoke, Julia leaned forward, allowing her guest to admire her wide cleavage.

“By the gods,” she sighed when Rufus paused to gulp down some wine. “There’s so much to know about racing! Why, I’ll never know how to make a decision.”

“Not to worry, my dear,” Rufus grinned. “A lady of your sophistication and intelligence can hardly make a wrong selection.”

“Flatterer,” laughed Julia. “Here, pour yourself some more wine. You’re such an expert, Rufus. I’m sure your years in the army prepared you well for this line of work.”

This remark caught the older man off-guard. “What do you mean?” he said, his smile fading.

“Oh,” Julia shrugged. “You attack enemies with chariots, don’t you?”

“In Africa,” muttered Rufus, looking down into his wine. “I, uh, fought up north.”

 _Shit_ , thought Julia crossly. She needed her guest to be charmed and to lower his guard.

“Oh, Rufus,” she laughed again, laying a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. “Forgive a silly girl like me! What do I know of the army! Nothing!” She caressed his shoulder with appreciation. “Mmm, you’re still quite strong, I see. There’s nothing like a man with muscles.”

Rufus hesitated. Julia could tell: he was cautious. But tempted.

“Tell me something,” the beautiful hostess said softly. “I’ve always wondered… When you’re in the army, there must be nothing like the thrill of victory. That must be true if you are highest general or the lowliest ranker.”

“Mmm,” muttered Rufus, and he relaxed. “Well… yes.”

“I’m sure,” flirted Julia. Her hand remained on Rufus’ soldier. “Oh, if I’d been a man! Tell me: what is it like, in the moment when you crush your enemies?”

“There’s nothing like it,” Rufus confessed. The man sipped more wine, then leaned closer. “There was this one time, in my youth… I was marching with General Germanicus, up north. Ah, those were glorious days.”

He smiled and gazed into the past. “There was this one time… on the plains of _Idistaviso_ … The barbarian tribes dared to meet up on an open field of battle. They’d bled us plenty at that point, and by the gods, we were ready to spill their blood.” Rufus extended a hand and dramatically closed his fist. “And in Mars’ name, we did. I personally cleaved off the head of no less than five of the rebel scum in that battle.”

“By the gods,” breathed Julia.

“There’s this moment…” Rufus said conspiratorially, “…when you meet your enemy, and he realizes that all is lost. The look in a man’s eyes when he knows, at long last, that he is conquered…” The man laughed softly. “Glorious.”

Julia snuggled closer. A cruel daydream was forming in her mind: _She saw herself on a battlefield, dressed in a centurion’s armor and holding a naked, bloodied sword. Before her knelt her enemy: Drusilla. The other woman’s eyes were widening in terror as Julia raised up her blade…_

“I would have loved to have been a soldier,” Julia murmured.

“Ah, you’ve have made a great soldier,” chuckled Rufus, gazing into Julia’s sparkling eyes. “I can tell.”

The older man was enjoying himself. He was relaxing. The wine was going to work on his judgement. He kept stealing glances as Julia’s body, especially her chest. He was tempted.

Julia set down her goblet. With one hand still on Rufus’ shoulder, she lay her free hand atop the older man’s forearm in a gentle caress. “You knew the emperor in those days, didn’t you? You spent much time with him?”

But this was the wrong thing to say. Immediately, Rufus’s expression hardened.

“I, ah, should really be going,” he coughed, pulling away.

 _Shit!_ Julia thought in alarm. _I mentioned the emperor too soon!_

“Wait…!” she implored.

“So,” Rufus said, rising from his couch, “you’ll let me know about the chariots? We can work out an arrangement. I should be getting home to my wife,” he added, most to himself.

Cursing her bad luck, Julia hurried to prevent Rufus from leaving the room. “Okay, okay,” she allowed. “You know what? I trust you, Rufus. I’ll give you my funds, and you can pick a chariot on my behalf. Can you wait here, and I’ll get you… er, what? Five thousand _denari_? That should be enough for an initial downpayment?”

“I’d need at least thirty thousand,” huffed Rufus. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“Thirty, or course,” Julia fretted. “Of course. Just… please… wait here?”

Rufus was no longer making eye contact. But he gruffly nodded.

“I won’t be a moment,” the beautiful young woman promised. Then, she turned and hurried away.

*** *** ***

Julia made a beeline for the kitchens, which were quiet at the moment. Most of the staff were off, shopping at the markets, working in the gardens, or doing the house laundry.

But in the back of the kitchens, Julia located the two slaves she was seeking. Tatia and Avita were sitting at the servants’ table, relaxing and sharing a crust of spicedbread. They gossiped in low voices.

With a furious glare, Julia flew to the wine rack, yanking a full bottle of Setinum off the top rack. This was, she knew from experience, the most potent wine that Roman vineyards produced.

Then the beautiful young woman rounded on her two slaves, fixing them with a terrible stare. Tatia and Avita shrank back in fear.

“Listen, you shitty little skanks,” hissed Julia, her eyes blazing. “I know you’re both fucking my husband. I should have you each whipped, then toss your bloodied bodies to the Coliseum lions.”

Tatia let out a horrified little choke. “Please, mistress!” she groveled. “Master Pandion, he-“

“Shut up,” Julia barked. “Do everything I fucking say. Or I’ll have your heads.” She scowled harder.

Tatia and Avita nodded quickly.

“Here,” Julia snapped, yanking out the cork from the bottle. “Both of you, drink this. Every drop.” She thrust the drinking vessel forward. “Drink!”

Fearful, Avita reached for the bottle.

*** *** ***

When the two slaves had finished all the Setinum, Julia seized the girls by their arms. “Hurry,” she snapped.

Perhaps four minutes had passed since Julia had left Rufus in the parlor! She was running out of time.

Although Tatia and Avita stumbled in their drunkenness, Julia rushed the slave women into her personal bedchamber. “Take off all your clothes,” she ordered harshly. “Then get on the bed.”

When the intoxicated slaves stared blankly at their mistress, Julia slapped Tatia across the face. “Now!” she roared.

The slave women hurried to obey. Soon, their plain tunics were tossed to the floor. They knelt on the bed, wondering what was going on.

Meanwhile, Julia rushed about, pulling all the curtains closed. Near-darkness swallowed the room.

“There,” Julia grunted, wishing she had time to light candles. She returned to the bed.

“You,” she snapped at Tatia. “Lie on your back. Spread your legs.”

“Mistress?” Tatia exclaimed, horrified.

Julia smacked Tatia again. “Defy me once more, and you’ll be whipped,” she warned.

Tatia hurried to carry out Julia’s demands.

“Good,” Julia huffed. To Avita, she said, “Now, suck on her. Eat her pussy. And don’t pretend that you don’t know how,” she sneered when Avita recoiled, just a little.

With little choice, Avita lowered her mouth to Tatia’s vagina. Her tongue and lips went to work.

“Make it look good,” warned Julia, but there was no need. Tatia, with her bellyful of wine, was already relaxing. Her eyes slowly closed.

“Good enough,” Julia grunted. “Keep it up, until I return.” And she fled from the room.

*** *** ***

Rufus was standing in the Vestibulum with his arms folded when Julia returned. She pressed a small coin purse into his meaty hands.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Rufey,” she purred, the seductive hostess once more. “This is all the cash I have on hand; but the servants are fetching the rest. Can you come with me?”

Rufus opened the purse, eyed the money inside, then grunted. “I suppose…” he allowed.

So Julia took him by the arm once more, and propelled him deeper into the house. “Forgive me for this ruse,” she said gayly. “But I had an alternate motive for inviting you over.”

She could sense Rufus stiffen in alarm. “What motive?” he demanded. “Because if this is about the emperor-“

“Oh no,” Julia quickly assured him. “Oh no! Why would I want to discuss the emperor? Women have no head for politics, you know this. No, I was hoping to gain something else from you…”

The beautiful young woman pressed closer. “Let me show you?” she murmured.

Rufus hesitated, but his resistance was weakened. “Just… for a moment…” he allowed.

Taking his hand, Julia pulled him further down the corridor.

*** *** ***

When Julia and Rufus entered the dark bedroom, Avita was still sucking on Tatia. Tatia was moaning and gasping with pleasure. Avita’s mouth was skilled, indeed.

“What is this?” exclaimed Rufus, stunned. His eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light.

Julia hurriedly shut the door. It was time to go for broke.

In her sultriest voice, she purred, “Do you know what makes me **_so hot_** , Rufey? What makes my pussy dripping wet… like it is now?” She moved closer to the older man, placing her soft hands upon his chest.

“My deepest fantasy,” moaned Julia, “is to be conquered. By a real man. A man who has slaughtered his enemies. A man who can subdue me in my own bed. Not like my limp-dick husband. A man like you.”

Julia leaned forward, kissing the dumbfounded Rufus full on the lips. At the same time, she took the older man’s hands, and slid them onto her breasts. It pleased her to feel him squeeze, just a little.

In the bed, Tatia started wailing, “Oh gods…! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!” She started kicking, her orgasm blossoming into life.

Julia broke the kiss, stepped away from Rufus, and moved to stand behind Avita. The slave was on her forearms and knees, which pushed her exposed posterior into the air. Julia lustily grabbed one buttock.

“Stop sucking,” she ordered Avita harshly. “Strip the gentleman. Do it on your knees.”

Avita wiped her mouth, then scurried off the bed. Julia grabbed Tatia by the hair. “Undress me,” she commanded.

Reeling from wine and a pretty great orgasm, Tatia did her best to obey. Her fumbling fingers pulled at Julia’s dress, allowing her mistress’ breasts to pop free. But the dress resisted her and did not come off.

Julia pulled the long pins from her hair, allowing her bouncy brown hair to tumble about her shoulders. “We are but helpless peasants, my lord,” she said to Rufus. “Conquer us. Make us three your slaves. Have your way with us, and fuck us raw.” And then, she turned to kiss Tatia.

As Julia and her slave passionately kissed one another, Rufus hurriedly unlaced his sandals. He kicked off the simple shoewear. And Avita was kneeling beside him, pulling at his toga. A toga is little more than a sheet of cloth wrapped around the body; once the slave girl was pulling at the right strand of cloth, the entire garment fell from Rufus’s broad shoulders. Fully nude now, Rufus thrust his erection as the slave girl. “Suck it,” he commanded.

“No!” Julia ordered, breaking her kiss with Tatia. “Come here, my lord. Bring the wench with you.”

Rufus obeyed, and soon all four adults were kneeling on the bed. Julia smirked. She lovingly grasped Rufus’s cock… and began stroking it… slowly.

“Your sword awes me, my lord,” she murmured. “Now… **_Conquer_** us.”

The chariot-master grabbed the two slave girls, pushing them together. Tatia and Avita fell to kissing, sliding their hands over one another’s bodies. They fell onto the bedsheets, with Tatia rolling on top of Avita. Avita reached over Tatia’s hips and grasped one of her buttocks. The two women were growing more and more aroused.

Satisfied, Rufus turned on Julia. The two stood on their knees, at the center of the bed.

“Conquer me,” she whispered again.

Rufus greedily tore at his hostess’ dress, surprising her with his savagery. The Chinese silk tore. To her surprise, Julia felt the tattered remains of the garment fall away. Soon, the moist air was kissing her skin. She was nude.

And then Rufus was upon her. The man’s lust was palatable. Rufus thrust his erection against Julia’s belly as he kissed her. The rough stubble of his beard brushed harshly against Julia’s smooth skin. His two rough hands clamped onto her arms.

Julia permitted the crude lovemaking. Her own sexual desire was stirring, but she was careful to keep from losing control. Rufus’ battleworn body did excite her, true, but she needed to keep a level head. She watched her prey carefully.

Julia and Rufus kissed. Sometimes Rufus’ course lips wandered down Julia’s neck to tongue her nipples. Other times, he fondled her breasts with his hands as her sought to kiss her mouth. All the while, Julia kept lightly teasing his cock with her fingertips. He was dribbling, but not yet ready to shoot off.

“Unngh,” Rufus grunted, then harshly pushed Julia on the her back. He pounced, lying atop her, kissing her neck while trying to force apart her legs with her own knees.

Alarmed, Julia put both of her hands on his shoulders. “Wait, my lord, wait,” she gasped. Her whole plan would be for naught if Rufus obtained any control at this point.

Annoyed, the chariot master, allowed himself to be laid onto his back. Julia slapped Tatia’s rear, just enough to get the slaves’ attention.

“Girls,” she snapped. “Lick our lord’s nipples.”

Although Tatia and Avita were nearly at their own climax, they scurried to carry out Julia’s wishes. Avita slithered to Rufus’s left side; Tatia to his right. Both slaves lowered their mouths to Rufus’ chest and gently – oh so gently – they began to trace the outline of his nipples with their sensuous tongues.

At the same time, Julia rose up, positioned herself over Rufus’ hips, then lowered herself onto the man’s rocklike penis. She sighed with contentment as she felt the swollen erection slide deep within her.

Rufus trembled. He gaped at the sight of three nude woman, all servicing different parts of his body. The man’s breathing became erratic.

Julia smiled, beginning to rise and fall slowly. As she rode Rufus’ cock, she deliberately built a lethargic rhythm. She arched her back, which allowed her breasts to bounce with her motion.

“Uhhhggggnnnn…!” Rufus moaned, trembling even more.

It was time to spring the trap. Using her best sex-voice, Julia moaned, “Oh, my lord, you feel soooo goooood…!”

“…yeah…!” gasped the man beneath her.

“Oh,” rasped Julia, “I’m pretending you are the emperor, and I am your horny, captured trophy. I know only my emperor can cum inside me like a true conqueror!”

Rufus made a groaning sound.

“Tell me, my love?” Julia teased. “What does the emperor like? Tell me?”

“Oh, just fuck me!” growled Rufus. He was trying to shift his hips upward. But Julia controlled how much he could penetrate her.

“What does the emperor like?” Julia repeated.

“Fuck!” gasped Rufus. “Fuck me, you want to discuss Caligula? Now? Fuck!”

“Ohhhhhh, Rufey,” the beautiful nude woman sighed. “Its no use. I want you to fuck me like the emperor… but you have to tell me what he likes. Something no-one else would know…!”

Because Rufus was wavering, she quickly added, “Oh baby, I’m close, I’m so fucking close, I want to fuck you, I want you to cum all inside me like the conqueror you are, mmm? What does the emperor like, baby? Tell me.”

“Oh gods,” blurted Rufus, really struggling.

“Suck him harder,” Julia ordered Tatia and Avita. “Tell me, my lord… Just tell me so you can cum!”

“Fuck me, by Jupiter!” Rufus cried, becoming red-faced now. “Fuck it! Caligula, he… he was always awkward with girls.”

“Ohhh, hearing that makes me hot, baby,” Julia groaned, riding a little harder. “Tell me more!”

“He… ugh… when he was a young teen…” gasped Rufus, losing control, “…he had this fantasy…”

Julia’s eyes lit up. She stopped entirely. “What?” she asked harshly. “What fantasy?”

“Oh gods, Caligula wanted magic powers,” shouted Rufus, rushing his words. “He wanted to put a spell on the aristocratic women he lusted after, so they would become his total and obedient slaves!”

A rush of triumph filled Julia’s soul. She immediately resumed bouncing up and down on Rufus’ cock. “Oh, gods, my lord!” she panted, as if nothing manipulative had happened at all. “Oh, you make me so horny, so fucking horny, I want you to cum inside me, conquer me, make me your total, willing slave-“

“ ** _GAAAAAAHHHHHNNNNNGGGGGHHHHH!!!_** ” Rufus bellowed, arching his back.

Julia felt the man’s cock spasm, and then a warm, rushing sensation filled her vagina. Rufus was having his climax. The seductive young woman grinned wickedly, continue to bounce.

Her mind wandered. So, Caligula had a secret sexual fantasy? Julia had no idea how she could exploit this… but it was something to work with. Perhaps she could buy some beautiful whores at the slave market, dress them up like noblewomen, and give them to the emperor? That might work.

To her surprise, Julia was also losing control. Feeling Rufus’ rigid cock thrusting inside her, Julia sighed, allowed her eyes to fall closed, and then tasted her own orgasm.

*** *** ***


	3. Into the Esquiline

In the morning, Julia was feeling less optimistic. As her handmaidens carefully bathed her, the beautiful young woman considered the next moves of her scheme.

If Emperor Caligula had a fetish, she realized, he would have already done everything possible to experience it. All of Rome knew that the emperor bedded six different maidens a week. No doubt that some silly girls had detected Caligula’s obsession, and role-played it with him. Caligula would not be impressed by an imitation of his ultimate sexual fantasy.

So what exactly did Rufus say about Caligula? _He wanted to put a spell on the aristocratic women he lusted after, so they would become his total and obedient slaves!_ With a growing depression, Julia realized: Caligula was never be satisfied with anything but actual magic. Her plan seemed to be unraveling.

“My lady?” The first handmaiden said expectantly.

Julia blinked. She was rising from her private bath, allowing the other servant girls to wipe the water from her body. “What?” she snapped.

“Which dress do you prefer? The light blue, or the red?”

“Dress?” Julia echoed stupidly.

“Yes, my lady,” the handmaiden said patiently. “For today’s processional. You and Master Pandion are to attend with the Lady Valeria and her husband.”

Of course! In an instant, Julia remembered: The handmaiden was right. The Twentieth Legion was marching through the City Forum, in celebration of their victory over the… so-and-so barbarians to the east. Or something. Julia had lost count of Rome’s wars.

Well, it would be good to see Valeria again. And to be out of the house for a while.

“The red dress,” Julia snapped, gestured that her hair should be combed.

*** *** ***

The City Forum was the heart of the city of Rome. A wide, sweeping plaza lined with government buildings, elaborate temples, and many basilicas, the Forum was where almost all of Rome’s most important events took place. As a member of the city’s elite, Julia often had to attend these, if only to maintain her status.

Today, hundreds of banners flew from every flagpole in the city. Down the center of the Forum, a wide parade route had been laid out, with thick crowds of Romans lining up by the thousands. Further back but higher up, private viewing boxes had been constructed, already filled with the top of Roman society. Julia and Pandion found that almost every seat in their ticketed box was full.

“We should have been here an hour ago,” Pandion grumbled to his wife.

“Oh, stop,” Julia snorted back. “The parade hasn’t even started yet. Where’s Valeria?”

Replete in her dark red dress, the beautiful young woman surveyed the box. There were perhaps a hundred of Rome’s well-to-do in attendance, all dressed in their finest, all chatting with one another.

“Ah,” Julia said. “There she is. Come on.”

The young couple elbowed their way through the crowd, smiling and murmuring greetings with their peers. As the crowd politely stepped back, Julia and Pandion found themselves face-to-face with Rufus Mettius. The astonished Chariot-Master was standing beside a fat, sweaty woman in a truly garish dress and heavy makeup. The fat woman was rapidly fanning herself.

Julia and Rufus blinked at one another. “I… eh, good day, Lady Cranaus,” he mumbled awkwardly.

“Rufus,” Julia nodded. Then she swept along, without giving the Chariot-Master another glance.

Valeria had claimed seats right in the front of the viewing box. There were three other aristocratic women with her, including… Julia scowled… Drusilla. Julia’s black-haired rival wore a lady’s toga, one that draped over her svelte body just enough to cover her chest, hips, and legs. Glittering jewelry circled her throat.

“Julia!” Valeria crowed. “Come, girl, we saved you a seat!” She patted a small chair, to her right.

“Ugh, I don’t hang out with women,” grumbled Pandion. Without another word, he edged back into the crowd.

Abandoned by her husband, Julia had little choice but to sit down.

“So,” Valeria said, her voice eager, “what was with you and Rufus? How come his face went slack when you guys met?”

“I dunno,” Julia relied airily.

“Uh-huh,” grinned Valeria.

“Hello, Julia,” Drusilla said, her voice dripping with ice.

“Dru,” acknowledged Julia.

Drusilla’s sharp eyes scanned every inch of Julia’s dress, hair, and makeup. Then she visibly curled one lip.

“Hey,” Valeria said, “the parade’s starting!”

*** *** ***

In a Triumphal Procession, Rome’s returning soldiers always marched in tight formation, displaying the weapons they used in battle. The standards of every division in the legion were held high, so that a Roman citizen could spot and cheer for the soldiers they personally knew. Bright confetti fell from the skies with abandon.

And in between the regiments, captured enemies were marched along, always in chains, and dressed in the shabbiest rags imaginable. The idea was to humiliate the losers before the whole Empire, just to break their spirits.

Julia and her friends watched this display of Imperial might as it tromped on by. Unlike the common mobs in the street, the aristocrats did not cheer or boo. They merely observed coolly, as if the entire affair was only mildly interesting to them.

But at the processional’s midpoint, a line of elephants appeared. Atop the lead elephant, a barbarian was waving to the crowd, delighted by the ecstatic sheering of the Romans.

“Who’s that?” Julia couldn’t help but ask.

“Really, Julia, you have to keep up with the news,” scoffed Valeria. “That’s General Houkin, leader of the barbarian army. When our forces approached his city, he knifed his own prince, then surrendered his legions. Emperor Caligula will reward him handsomely, I’m sure.”

“Oh,” Julia said. “So there wasn’t really a battle at all?”

“There was, but the fighting was pretty much lopsided,” Valeria replied. She sighed, and inspected her nails.

“Oh, I get it,” Julia said, disgusted. “So this whole processional is to celebrate one man who is a traitor to his own people. Nice.”

“Betrayal is life, baby,” retorted Drusilla, as if Julia had just said the stupidest thing imaginable. “When history is written, do you think the scholars will care that the fighting was fair? Houkin saw an opportunity to advance, and he seized it. Good for him.”

“Speaking of opportunities, ladies…” the black-haired beauty went on, a smirk on her face, “soon you’ll be addressing me as the First Lady of Achaea.” She raised her head high.

“No!” exclaimed Valeria, obviously delighted. “You little minx! How are you working that?”

“My husband, Lucius, is putting a little something together for the emperor,” Drusilla said loftily.

Julia found herself grinding her teeth. Lucius Gallus, Drusilla’s husband, was the general in Rome’s Africa Legions. Across the Mediterranean, he had almost unlimited resources at his disposal.

“Oh, now you have to tell us!” Valeria insisted, mock-slapping Drusilla’s bare arm.

Drusilla made a show of sighing mightily. “Fine. In Egypt, there are these special soldiers… what’re they called…? _Minha Multakhat Bialdima_ , or something. They’re so badass because they train from the time they can walk, and they take a blood oath to blindly obey their master. Like, they believe that if they fail an order, their souls are condemned in the afterlife. That’s why when they are commanded, they either complete their mission, or die. Badass.”

After a dramatic pause, Drusilla laughed. “And Lucious has purchased **_an entire phalanx of them_** for Emperor Caligula! An entire regiment of hardened, obsessed bodyguards! Can you imagine?”

“Fuck me!” Valeria almost cried. “The emperor loves that macho military shit! He’ll flip.”

“Yes, he will,” Drusilla gloated. She laughed, a pleasant, lilting sound. “Why, the emperor may be so jazzed, he might not stop with giving us the governorship of Achaea. Maybe I can be allowed to pick any citizen I want to become my slave.”

“So wild,” cackled Valeria.

“Maybe I’ll enslave Julia,” Drusilla proposed, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “You can see it, can’t you, Julia? Scrubbing my floors? Cleaning my clothes? Shoveling out my stables?”

Valeria broke out into cruel laughter, and Drusilla joined her. Julia fumed.

“Oh, relax, Jules,” Valeria sighed, wiping away a tear. “Dru is just kidding. Right, Dru?”

“Sure,” sneered Drusilla.

“Of course,” smiled Julia. “Very funny, Dru.”

But inside, Julia was boiling with sheer, seething rage.

*** *** ***

As soon as the processional was over, Julia made an excuse to leave Pandion. “I’ll be home in an hour or so,” she told him haughtily, then strode away before her husband had a chance to object. He stared after her, bewildered.

In Rome, women of means traveled by liter. Julia owned a fine liter, hefted by eight male slaves, all who were swift on their feet. The men were also pretty good brawlers, should Julia encounter any rough crowds.

Now, Julia was grateful for the protection. Upon her orders, the literbearers carried her south, into the Esquiline, one of Rome’s dingier and rougher neighborhoods. Here, the marble temples and proud statues disappeared. The buildings were wooden, and much dirtier. And the people in the narrow streets wore ugly grey tunics. Julia noticed that they spat into the dirt quite a bit.

The literbearers turned up the _Tenebris Aditu Praesaepto_ , a dusty boulevard of uneven cobblestones. The unmarked building just beyond the taverns had no lanterns in the windows, but Julia hopped out of her liter and boldly knocked on the painted red door, nonetheless.

The door opened a crack.

“I seek an audience,” Julia announced. “ _Ius condemnabitur._ ”

The cleric behind the door hesitated, but did not challenge the secret password. He opened the door wider.

“Wait here,” Julia instructed her litermen, then swept inside.

*** *** ***

Pluto was the Roman God of the Underworld, feared and despised. Of all the gods, he was the deity that the Romans worshipped grudgingly. Few men felt comfortable saying his name aloud. Across the entire Empire, there was only one temple dedicated the death-god.

The Cult of Pluto, however, flourished in the Roman underground. The priests of the cult, fiercely devoted to their master, were careful to practice their religion away from the eyes of the authorities… yet make themselves available to those who wanted to pray to the Lord of the Underworld. Theirs was a world of shadows and secrets.

Julia dipped into her coin purse and dropped coins into the cleric’s hand. “Take me to Pluto’s High Priest,” she commanded. “Now.”

The pale-faced cleric nodded once, then beckoned.

Julia was led deep into the temple, which was little more than an old apartment building renovated by the cult for their own purposes. In the center of the building, there was a large, open chamber, dominated by a crude wooden statue of Pluto himself. A wide basin lay at the death-god’s feet. The room was poorly lit, illuminated by hundreds of dark red candles set in honeycombed pockets in the clay walls.

A bald man in a black robe was kneeling before the statue, muttering softly. His back was to the door.

“Leave us,” Julia ordered the cleric. The pale man bowed once again, then departed. He closed the door behind him. Julia was alone with the High Priest.

The beautiful young woman waited impatiently to be acknowledged. The room stank of dried blood and sweat. Perhaps it was the heat or the candle-smoke, but Julia felt momentarily light-headed.

The black-robed priest fell silent. He bowed his head low before Pluto, then rose to his feet slowly.

“You come to us with a need, my lady,” the priest said, his back still to Julia. His voice was deep and stonelike.

“I do,” replied Julia, straightening.

“Of course, of course,” the priest rumbled. He turned to face his guest.

Julia almost shrank back. The man was tall, but quite old with a withered face and hands. His cheeks were sunken, and both of his eyes were without pupils, merely milky white orbs that stared blindly ahead. A thin, wispy beard of white dangled from his chin. The priest’s black robe covered him like a shadow of ink, and it was impossible to see the folds of the cloth in this dim light.

“I live only to serve, my lady,” the priest smiled. Half of his teeth were missing.

“Very well,” Julia said tartly. “How does this work, then? Do I pray directly to your god, or-“

“The Lord Pluto is **_your_** god, he is the god of all that have yet to enter the realm of the afterlife,” the priest insisted. “Do not show He-That-Is-Our-Master disrespect, not in this house.”

“Right,” Julia said quickly. “Okay. So…”

“Why are you here, my lady?” the priest inquired, cocking his head to one side. “Have you recently lost a child? Or a sister? Our Master will allow you to pray for their souls. For a price, of course.”

Julia shook her head. “No. I come with an offer. Something that will interest your Master very much, I’ll wager.”

The priest did not move. He merely said, “…oh?”

And yet, that one word had enormous gravity.

“I need something from your Master,” Julia pressed. “Something that would be a mere trinket to him, yet so important to me. Something… beyond the skills of mortal men.”

“I see,” said the priest, most pleasantly.

“And in return, I will pledge… well, whatever you- I mean, whatever Pluto thinks would be a fair price,” Julia promised. “I can arrange for the sacrifice of… oh… shall we say, a hundred vestal virgins? Only the highest quality girls, I promise.”

The trouble and expense of finding a hundred young virgins on the Roman slave markets would be enormous, but Julia didn’t care. Once Pandion was Governor of Achaea, she could afford to buy every slave in Rome and Athens, and still have plenty of wealth left over. Money was no object.

“One moment, my lady,” the blind priest rumbled. “The price cannot be named unless the purchase is known. What, pray tell, do you seek?”

Julia pursed her lips together. “Have you ever studied the Greeks, sir?”

“All educated men do,” the priest replied.

“When I was young, I studied the Greek histories myself,” Julia said. “I came across the oddest incident, something that had always stuck with me. It seems, three hundred-some years ago, a wise man from the city of Sicyon discovered a strange power. Because that power was given to him by the Greek god Hypnos, he called this enchantment _hypnosis_. And with this power, the wise man was able to put other people to sleep, and then control their minds. Sicyon nearly conquered the city of Sparta using this _hypnosis_.”

“I see,” murmured the priest, fascinated.

“That is what I want,” Julia said firmly. “I want the power of _hypnosis_. If the Lord of Death could grant this to me, I would make sure he is amply rewarded. In fact-”

The old man lifted one hand, indicating that Julia was to remain silent. He bowed his head.

And perhaps it was Julia’s imagination, but the chamber seemed to grow darker.

After a moment or two, the priest turned back to his guest. “Our Master has heard you,” he smiled. “And he accepts your generous proposition. However-“

“Oh, good,” smiled Julia.

“… ** _however_** ,” the priest frowned, “your payment is not acceptable. The Lord of Death wants something entirely different from you.”

The beautiful young woman hesitated. “And what would that be?”

“You must pay, in gold, to support our noble temple,” the priest demanded. “We humble priests cannot-“

“Gold, fine,” snapped Julia. She recognized extortion when she saw it. When you were wealthy, every con man in Rome tried to wheedle you out of your money.

“More importantly,” intoned the priest, “you must pledge your soul to the possession of our Master.” His expression became grave. “Nothing less will satisfy Him.”

“My soul…?” repeated Julia, taken aback.

In Roman culture, it was believed that when a body died, their soul journeyed to the Underworld. There, they lived for in a version of eternity that they had created for themselves while on Earth. A warrior would revel in endless glory, for example, while a king might rule over a recreated version of his own kingdom.

But what would happen if Julia sold her soul to Pluto? Would she still reach the afterlife upon her death? The young woman didn’t know.

I shiver of fear raced down Julia’s spine. “Oh, no,” she said dismissively. “Not my soul. I can give you more gold, or more gold and the virgins. But not-“

“Our Master does not negotiate,” boomed the priest, distaste in his tone. “You can accept his generous offer, or go without. Those are the options.”

Julia bit her lip, thinking quickly. In the Old Tales, the gods always demanded impossible sacrifices, but rarely cared about what happened after their tributes were paid. _After today, I can buy my soul back, right?_ Julia reasoned. _Once Pandion is ruler of Achaea, I’ll control all the riches of Greece! I’ll promise Pluto the whole of Crete, and every soul on it! What god wouldn’t accept?_

Yes. Of course. She would strike the first of two bargains with the death-god today. Once she had the power of _hypnosis_ , she and Pandion would rape Greece for other souls and wealth that Pluto could not dare refuse. And then, Julia would buy her soul back. A perfect plan.

The young women nodded, just once.

*** *** ***

Julia and the priest knelt side-by-side, directly before the wide basin and the statue of Pluto. A cleric entered the room, bearing a tray with many small bottles, jars, and bowls upon it, all filled with odd substances. The cleric set the tray on the floor, directly before the older priest. There had been no shout or bell rung; Julia wondered how the cleric had known to bring the tray. The pale man bowed, and retreated immediately.

Then the old priest lifted a clay bottle and tipped it over the basin. A thick oil oozed out, horrid to the nose. Julia cringed. The oil immediately bubbled and smoked, although no flame was under the basin.

“Drink this,” ordered the priest, thrusting a small vial into Julia’s hands. He began chanting in a low tone. There was a small bowl of powder on the tray; the priest scooped it up and sprinkled tiny amounts of powder into the oil.

Feeling uncomfortable, Julia raised the vial to her lips.

“Drink!” ordered the priest. “Before the Lord of Death changes his mind.”

Julia threw back the vial, gulping it all down in a single swallow. The odd liquid had no taste or texture, only a sensation of slight warmth that raced down her throat.

The beautiful young woman erupted into a fit of coughing. Her stomach lurched.

“Very good, very good,” murmured the priest. “He is pleased. Now, throw a coin into the basin! Quickly, now!”

Gagging slightly, Julia drew a single _denari_ from her change purse. She tossed it into the basin.

Now the priest began swaying forward and back, waving his bony hands over the frothing liquid. His chanting grew deeper and more rapid. Julia couldn’t understand a single word he spoke.

One-by-one, the candles in the walls went out. Darkness grew stronger. The air itself seemed to grow thicker and heavy. Soon the room was cloaked in an almost pure blackness. Julia could only see the thin outline of Pluto’s statue, looming over her.

And then, the priest clapped his hands, just once. The noise was like a thunderclap, startling the beautiful young woman.

In an instant, every candle was relit. The room returned to its earlier, flickering illumination.

Julia blinked. Before her, the basin was dry. The oil had completely vanished. Only her coin remained…

Wait! The coin was changed, somehow. It still retained its flat, round dimensions, but now it appeared to be made from sparkling crystal, not dull silver. The coin twinkled and glittered, displaying a thousand rainbow colors under its small surface.

“What in…?” Julia gaped.

Weary, the priest gestured to the basin. “That is yours, my lady.”

Amazed, Julia scooped up the coin. It was slightly warm to the touch, and had almost no weight. It tingled slightly in her palm.

“This… is hypnosis?” she asked, perplexed.

“No,” the high priest replied. “It is an instrument, a tool. Nothing more. Our Master has forged it for you, and bids you use it wisely.”

“But… how?” Julia wanted to know.

“When you hold the crystal, all the knowledge you will need will magically appear in your mind,” the priest told her. “Enough. Put it away, my lady, and show it only to a bare minimum of people. The more who see it, the more they will try to take it from you.”

Julia snatched the coin. It was light and smooth in her hand.

*** *** ***


	4. Julia’s Salon

The head servant of the mansion looked astonished.

“I said,” Julia repeated in impatience, “is your mistress home?”

“She is, my lady,” the servant said. “Er, will you come inside? I would fetch her for you.”

“Very good,” ordered Julia, already stepping through the mansion’s double front doors. She made a careless gesture, indicating that her literbearers were to wait outside for her, no matter how long she might be detained. The bearers looked none-too-pleased at this, but knew better than to argue.

The servant shut the doors, then led Julia to a sitting-parlor. Julia glanced about, quickly scanning this house’s elaborate décor. The mansion might even be grander than her own house. Julia was impressed.

The servant bowed low, then retreated. In a moment, Julia heard light footsteps approached, and then Drusilla appeared in the doorway. The surprise of Drusilla’s face was delightful to behold.

“Julia,” Drusilla said, puzzled but smiling. “Welcome to our home, dear. Its been an age since you last visited.”

Julia snorted. She had **_never_** been invited to Drusilla’s house before.

“Hey there, Dru,” the beautiful young woman replied, moving to embrace her hostess. The two women air-kissed.

“So, I was just in the neighborhood,” Julia lied, “and thought I might stop by.”

“I see,” said Drusilla, arching one quizzical eyebrow. “How kind.”

There was a tense silence.

“Tell me something, Dru,” Julia said, adopting a cruel smirk. “Why did you decided to pursue the Governorship of Achaea for your husband? He is already one of the most powerful men in the Empire. Why want more?”

“Why not?” Drusilla pushed back. “Oh, I see. You thought **_your husband_** should become governor?” She adopted a mocking expression of fake pity. “Oh, Julia. Your husband may be rich, but he’s a little nobody. Always will be.”

The barb stung Julia just enough. Relishing the moment, she opened her coin purse. “Its funny you would say that, Dru,” Julia said, drawing out her special coin. “Today is the day the nobodies put their betters in line.”

“What is that?” Drusilla demanded, eyeing the circle of crystal in Julia’s fingers. “Jewelry?”

Up until this moment, Julia hadn’t been certain her plan would work. But now, a strange confidence possessed her. She knew what to say. She knew what to do. She was in command.

Julia raised her hand, and the coin floated into the air.

“What…?” Drusilla gasped.

“Tut tut,” Julia said. She extended her thumb and index finger, placing their fingertips three inches apart. The coin hovered in the space between, as if held by an invisible thread. Slowly, it began spinning.

“Where did you get this?” Drusilla wanted to know, deeply suspicious.

“Hush, hush, Dru, dear,” smiled Julia. “Didn’t you notice it?”

“Notice what?”

“Inside the coin,” Julia said pleasantly. “It shows you the image of your true self. Don’t you see yours?”

“My true self?” frowned Drusilla. She eyed the spinning coin.

“Watch,” Julia encouraged. “If you concentrate, just a little, you’ll see an image of yourself. An image made from nothing but light and color. It will be beautiful, dear Drusilla, beautiful indeed. Look closer…”

“I… How are you doing this?” Drusilla wrinkled her brow.

Julia smile grew wider. Drusilla’s eyes were fixed on the dazzling coin, which was beginning to spin faster. The beautiful young woman knew; once a victim’s eyes were studying the coin, it was too late. The magic was already going to work on Drusilla’s mind.

“Focus, Dru, and feel yourself relax,” Julia cooed. “Relax. Let your arms drop to your side. Let your weight rest evenly across both hips. Let your breathing become slow and calmer. You will soon feel so much better. Relax. Relax.”

Drusilla’s lips parted.

“Be silent!” urged Julia. “No, gaze **_deeper_** into the lights, Dru. Gaze deeper, and relax. Relax even more. You feel so wonderful, and all you want to do is let go a little more, relaxing even deeper. That’s it…”

Where this dialog was coming from, Julia couldn’t say. She simply knew what words to speak, as if another power were placing the commands she needed directly into her own mind. She talked on and on, effortlessly guiding her rival into a dull stupor.

The expression had faded from Drusilla’s face. The beautiful, black-haired woman stared into the spinning coin with blank eyes, her lips parted slightly. She was completely motionless, standing still, her hands limp at her sides.

Julia wanted to laugh out loud. “Very good, Drusilla dear. And now, I snap my fingers, and you will fall into a deep, deep sleep, where you have no will of your own, and you must follow and obey all of my commands. Become my slave… now.”

With her free hand, Julia clicked her fingers, just once.

The effect was immediate. Drusilla’s eyes shut, and her head slumped forward.

“Excellent,” beamed Julia, slipping the coin back into her coin purse. “From now on, dear Drusilla, you will always be obedient to the voice in your mind, the voice that puts you into this special, irresistible sleep. You will follow its every instruction and believe whatever it tells you to believe. When under this special magic, you no longer have any will of your own. Obey.”

Drusilla did not so much as twitch a finger. For a moment, Julia felt a flicker of doubt. Was the other woman truly hypnotized? Had she surrendered her free thoughts?

There was only one way to be sure.

“In a moment,” Julia commanded, “I will snap my fingers. When I do, Drusilla, you will awaken, remembering nothing. You will continue our conversation as if nothing has happened. But anytime I touch your nose, you will fully believe that you are my dog, my faithful, loving dog. You will act like a dog, bark like a dog, think like a dog. You will remain like this until I tap you on your nose once more; then you will have no memory of your previous experience.”

Julia paused. Her every instinct told her that the spell she’d placed upon Drusilla would be irresistible. Slightly worried, she clicked her fingers again.

The other woman sprang back to life. “Oh, Julia,” she sneered. “Your husband may be rich, but he’s a little nobody. Always will be.”

Julia watched, amazed. Drusilla betrayed absolutely no awareness that she’d just been hypnotized. It was as if the last few minutes had never happened.

“You’ve always hated me, haven’t you, Dru?” Julia wanted to know.

“Oh, no, dearest, no,” protested Drusilla… but her voice was not sincere. “Why, you’re like a sister to me. Its just that…”

“What?” Julia pressed.

Drusilla gave a smile of venom. “You don’t know your place, Julia, dear,” she said sweetly. “In this world, there are the highers – people like my husband and me – and the lowers. And your swarthy, disgusting Greek husband may have some money, but you’re still a lower. Always will be. That’s how it is.”

“Is that a fact?” Julia replied. Then, before Drusilla could respond, Julia reached out and tapped Drusilla on the tip of her nose.

The effect was immediate. Drusilla’s sly expression vanished, replaced with a look of stupidity and wonder. She dropped to all fours and began to pant heavily.

“And now, your miserable bitch,” Julia said warmly, “who’s the lower now?”

“Woof!” barked Drusilla. “Woof, woof!” She began to rub affectionately against Julia’s leg.

And at this, Julia laughed, really belly-laughed in revenge and delight. **_Hypnosis worked!_** Drusilla was her slave! Oh, it was too delicious to be believed.

Giddy with power, Julia selected a small, wooden statue of a nude young woman from the nearby hearth. “Fetch, girl, fetch!” she crowed, and tossed the statue across the room.

Drusilla bounded after the figure, then returned with it in her mouth, crawling on all fours. She waggled her rear end, as if she had a long, shaggy tail.

“Excellent,” cackled Julia. She accepted the statue, then bopped Drusilla on the nose, once again.

“…and another thing,” Drusilla snapped, rising to her feet. “I don’t see why you are invited to go out on the town with Valeria and the other girls. We’re in the nobility. You should be home, pregnant, washing your husband’s floors.”

“ ** _Sleep_** ,” Julia ordered, passing a hand over Drusilla’s fierce eyes.

Immediately, the other woman fell back into a powerful trance.

Julia knew exactly what she wanted to do next; it was time to implement the next phase of her plan. “From now on, Drusilla, anytime someone else touches you on the shoulder and tells you, ‘ _You are my slave,_ ’ you instantly lose your free will. You must obey them, and you will delight in carrying out any commands they give you. You will remain in this sleep-like obedient state until that same person touches you on the shoulder once more and tells you, ‘ _Now you are free._ ’ At that time, you will awaken, with no memory of what you did as a slave, yet be entirely unconcerned if you notice that anything has changed. These commands will remain, deep in your mind, for all of your life.”

Deep satisfaction filled Julia. She’d conquered Drusilla, once and for all! Her power over her rival was absolute!

Marveling at her victory, Julia had to wonder: Why hadn’t she visited the Cult of Pluto earlier?

*** *** ***

Pandion stepped down from his small, private carriage. It was evening, and the shipping magnate was glad to be home. It had been a long day, spent doing nothing but pouring over shipping contracts, rechecking manifests, and haggling with customers down at the docks. His fingers and back ached. He longed for some supper, and then… perhaps a little sex?

A little sex sounded nice. Pandion had married Julia because she was beautiful, her body was unspeakably desirable, and she drove him wild in the bedroom. For a moment, the Greek fantasied about squeezing his wife’s two large breasts together, and then fucking them until he came in her face. That sounded great.

But… Pandion scowled. Ever since the wedding, Julia had become more detached and argumentative. She complained constantly. She seemed restless and bored with her husband. While she grew more beautiful, she was less loving. Pandion resented it.

Come to think of it… Julia had been acting most odd lately. After the triumphal procession – three days ago – Julia had immediately fled the Palatine in her liter. Pandion had thought that odd, so he’d bribed the head literbearer to learn where his wife had gone. She’d traveled into the slums of the Esquiline! Why in the name of Jupiter would she want to venture **_there?_**

The shipping magnate stepped through his front door, then paused. He studied the vestibulum, the house’s grand entrance hall. Something was amiss. The servants were not present, and most of the evening candles had not been lit. From deep within the house, he could hear the chatter of women’s voices.

Was Julia hosting a salon? Without informing him? Pandion set his jaw. His wife might be disinterested in him, but she had no qualms about lavishly spending his money.

Pandion followed the sound of female voices. They were chatting and laughing in the garden, sounding like they were having a marvelous time.

The Greek passed through the central entryway, and sure enough, there was Julia and her friends. Pandion’s eyes popped. Julia was wearing a casual toga, draped over one shoulder, and hanging down past her ankles. But all the other women – Pandion recognized Valeria, Drusilla, Aquilia, Tarquinia, Scribonia, and Livilla – were completely naked. They stood around, as casual as the statues of nude goddesses that lined the Forum. Each of the ladies seemed entirely comfortable without wearing any clothes. All the women held wine goblets, Julia included.

“Ah, darling!” called out Julia, waving to Pandion. “You’re home!”

“Join us!” the naked women called. “Come, come!”

To say that Pandion was astonished is quite the understatement. His mouth agape, he moved to his wife, unable to stop staring at the abundant nudity around him.

“What…?” was all he could say.

The female guests giggled.

“Welcome home, darling,” Julia beamed. She gestured toward the kitchens. Tatia and Avita quickly appeared, carrying another goblet and a pitcher of wine. Pandion was hardly phased to see that his two favorite slaves were naked, too.

“So…” Julia remarked, pressing a goblet into Pandion’s hands, “…I’d imagine you have some questions.”

“What is this?” Pandion almost cried. “Are you hosting an orgy?”

“No, but we could have one, if you like,” Julia offered. “No, my love, today is the first day of your most glorious future. We have a gift for the emperor, a gift that will buy us anything we want in the Empire.”

Thunderstruck, Pandion could only ogle the women about him.

“Drink, dear,” Julia smirked. “You see, all of these women are hypnotized.”

Pandion knew enough Greek history to know that word. “Like… the old story of…”

“Of Sicyon and the Spartan princess, yes,” nodded Julia. “I’ve gained the power of hypnosis, my love, and now I control the minds of all the women you see before you. Watch…”

“Ladies!” shouted the beautiful young woman, “in an instant, I will clap my hands. When I do, you all feel an irresistible lust. You must make love to the woman nearest you. You will continue to do this until I clap my hands again. You cannot resist.”

The nude women listened to these instructions as if there was nothing unusual or perverse in anything that Julia said. Several of them continued to delicately sip their wine.

Julia calmly handed her own wine goblet to her husband. Then she struck her hands together.

The effect was immediate. As one, the nude women all dropped their goblets. Purple wine spilled over the smooth garden stones. At the same time, the ladies all seized one another, passionately kissing and caressing. All six of the aristocratic ladies plus Tatia and Avita were affected. The women paired off momentarily, only to switch partners after a few seconds. The women moaned and sighed as their lusts assumed control of their bodies.

“By… the gods!” Pandion exclaimed, both aroused and horrified.

“You see?” Julia said proudly. “My love, the emperor has a secret fetish, the desire to place his lovers under his complete mental control. So what will we do? Heh. We’ll give him control over the most beautiful and desirable women in Rome! The wives of Rome’s elite! What could be more enticing than that?”

“I thought hypnosis was a silly myth,” mumbled Pandion.

“No, no, its quite real,” Julia assured him. “See?”

The lustful, hypnotized women were beginning to lower themselves to the ground as they kissed and fondled one another. Their moaning grew longer and deeper.

“How did you gain hypnosis?” Pandion demanded.

“With this…!” Julia smirked. Her hand slipped into the folds of her toga, and she drew out what appeared to be a small, sparkling disk. “Once one gazes into this, they have no hope of retaining the freedom of their thoughts.” She chuckled softly.

“You plan to hypnotize the emperor?” Pandion asked.

Julia cocked her head to one side, considering. “That’s not a bad idea. Well, I’d have to get him alone, or else his guards would slice me to ribbons. Hmm. Perhaps if I can convince him to join me in the bedroom…”

With growing alarm, Pandion studied his young wife. She was wearing a tiny smile, a smile of ambition and greed. She absently twirled the sparkling disk between her long, slender fingers.

In a flash, Pandion saw the future. Deep down inside, Julia was a ruthless woman. Why, she’d placed her own friends under this spell of hypnosis, and she was willing to use them as trinkets to please the emperor! She understood neither loyalty nor honor.

It was only a matter of time, Pandion realized in horror, that Julia would hypnotize him, too. The thought of becoming a mindless slave to such a pitiless creature terrified him.

Pandion leapt forward, grabbing at his wife’s hands.

“What…?” Julia snarled, realizing too late what her husband intended.

The Greek man grabbed at Julia, knocking her off her feet and into the pruned juniper bushes. He desperately grappled for the magic disk. Julia withed and fought, raking the sharp nails of her free hand across his face. Pandion grunted as she drew blood.

But the shipping magnate was bearing down on Julia, and could apply his full strength against her. With furious determination, Pandion tore the disk from Julia’s grasp.

Julia was half-lying down on the garden floor, with Pandion kneeling over her. Both husband and wife were panting heavily. Julia made a desperate attempt to snatch the disk back. “Give it to me, asshole!” she hissed, furious.

But it was easy for Pandion to pin her down. The Greek man inspected his prize.

The disk looked to be made of pure crystal, almost colorless in the flickering candlelight. It had the smoothest texture, almost no weight, and tingled slightly in his fingertips. Swirls of colors appeared within the crystal, as if a rainbow was trapped within, dancing for joy.

“Give that to me!” roared Julia, struggling harder. Her nails scratched at Pandion’s arm.

Suddenly, Pandion knew what to do. While he was holding the crystal, it was as if some force placed knowledge directly into his mind. Why, using the crystal was so easy! A child could do it.

With a determined glare, the shipping magnate held the crystal up between his index finger and thumb. “Look here,” he instructed Julia in a firm voice.

Julia glanced at the disk, and her eyes went wide with realization and dread. She froze, and her entire body went tense.

“Look deep into the crystal, Julia,” commanded Pandion, holding the disk closer. “Do you see how the colors within play? Isn’t it fascinating?”

“Wait…” Julia stammered. Her eyes were locked on the disk. To Pandion’s amazement, the crystal began to spin, twirling by some mysterious, unseen power.

“You gaze deeper,” Pandion told his wife. “And as you do, you will begin to relax…”

“Pandion,” Julia said, trying to resist. “…my love. There is no need for this!”

“I know,” the Greek man said pleasantly. “Don’t worry about it, my dear. Look deeper into the crystal. Feel your body relax. Allow yourself to enjoy this pleasant, wonderful feeling of absolute relaxation.”

Julia was staring directly into disk, which was whirling about even faster now. Her body was losing tension, and her hands dropped loosely to the ground beside her.

“…Pandy…” Julia pleaded. Her expression was fading.

“Forget your troubles,” said her husband. “Relax deeper. Allow the magic to soothe your thoughts. Soon, you will have no cares or worries at all. Relax deeper…!”

Julia blinked once, a slow, heavy blink. The last traces of anger melted from her beautiful face.

“Very good,” Pandion murmured. “You are completely at peace, Julia. You want nothing but to relax even deeper. Your thoughts fade completely.” He nodded once. “Lie back on the ground.”

Without hesitation, Julia reclined onto the garden’s floor. She kept her sleepy eyes locked onto the disk which had enslaved her.

“Very good,” grinned Pandion. “Now, repeat this: You will obey.”

“I will obey,” Julia agreed in a small voice.

“Your thoughts are now mine.”

“My thoughts,” Julia echoed, “are now yours.”

“You are happy to be enslaved.”

The Roman woman actually smiled, just a little. “I am happy to be enslaved,” she murmured.

“Wonderful, Julia,” grinned Pandion. “Now, sleep…!”

Julia’s eyes fell shut, and her body collapsed into complete restfulness. She was completely in the power of the crystal.

Rising to his feet, Pandion grinned like a hyena. What a rush of power! Foolish Julia had given him everything he’d ever hoped for now. Well… almost everything.

Her idea – to present the hypnotized women to the emperor and then place Caligula himself under the spell of hypnotism – was genius, Pandion had to admit. Only now **_he was the master of the crystal!_** He would wield it! In a month, he would be Emperor of Rome!

Pandion looked about his garden in triumph. On the ground around him, the nude, hypnotized women were lying in exhausted bunches, their exposed arms and legs intertwined about one another. While Pandion and Julia had struggled, the women had made love. Now they were drifting off into natural sleep, breathing heavily.

Smirking, Pandion slipped the magic disk into his belt-purse.

*** *** ***


	5. The Imperial Palace

The Imperial Palace was every bit as huge and opulent as Julia had imagined. The vast mansion seemed to one enormous chamber after another, all built from ornate, polished marble. Everywhere she looked, there were statues and murals and silk curtains and fountains and fresh-cut flower arrangements. Palace servants were everywhere, gliding in and out of these rooms without a sound. And the Pretorian Guard stood by silently, glaring at everyone, not moving a muscle.

The emperor’s audience chamber was the grandest room of all in the palace. An enormous, wide space, the chamber had a large, domed ceiling, which allowed natural sunlight to stream inside and bathe the treelike marble columns that lined the walls. A faint echo lingered in the air whenever someone spoke.

And at the front of the great room, elevated atop a mighty dais, the emperor himself sat in his ornate throne. He was flanked by ministers and secretaries, all serious-looking men, all in the same plain pure white toga, all frowning down upon those in attendance. Four Pretorians hovered directly behind the emperor himself, motionless, but obviously alert.

“By the gods, Caligula’s even more handsome up close,” Valeria murmured in Julia’s ear.

Julia snapped herself out of her daydream. Yes, Valeria was quite right. The emperor was thin and muscular, with sharp facial features and burning, brown eyes. When he listened intently, the young monarch seemed to be almost predatory, as if he were about to pounce if he heard something he didn’t like. The man oozed power and confidence.

Julia found it sexy.

The young woman shook her head, just a little. Lately, she’d been so absent-minded! She glanced about, quickly resetting her mind and taking stock of her surroundings.

She, Valeria, and all of their mutual friends - Aquilia, Drusilla, Tarquinia, Scribonia, Livilla, and others – were now standing before Caligula himself! Why they were here, Julia couldn’t quite remember. Lately, she was having trouble recalling things. But it didn’t matter.

All of the assembled ladies looked marvelous, dressed in new, revealing dresses, their finest jewelry, and makeup worthy of a master. Each woman looked like a goddess.

And had Julia been more alert, she would have noticed that all the women had the same glazed, dreamy smile on their gorgeous faces.

But the only man in her party – Pandion – was speaking. What was he talking about? Julia forced herself to concentrate.

“…so you see, mighty Caesar,” Pandion was explaining, “my gift is most unusual. But probably the most enjoyable gift you will receive all year.”

The emperor arched a skeptical eyebrow. “All I see are these women. Are they whores? I already have my pick of any woman in the Empire.”

“Just hear me out, O Great One,” Pandion begged. “But first, do you recognize any of these lovely ladies?”

The emperor peered closer. “That one…” he said uncertainly, indicating Drusilla. “She looks a lot like… the wife of… General Lucius Ulpius?”

Drusilla smiled at the mention of her husband.

“She is General Ulpius’ wife,” Pandion said proudly. He indicated Valeria. “And this is the young wife of Senator Brocchus. And here…” He singled out Aquilia. “…is the wife of Proconsul Geminus himself! In fact, all of the young wives of the highest level of the Empire are here.”

The emperor scanned the young women, his eyes widening as he realized the truth of Pandion’s statement.

“Forgive me, Mighty Caesar,” the Greek continued, “but I recently learned that you’ve always desired a way to put women under a powerful spell, where they would have no choice but to obey your every whim.” Pandion extended both his arms, indicating the young women. “Well, highness these ladies have been **_hypnotized_**. They are already under a powerful magic spell. They merely await you to command them.”

The emperor sat back on the throne, his face quizzical. “Hypnotized?” he repeated. “What’s that?”

“I will show you, highness,” Pandion said eagerly. “Select one lady, any one.”

“Eh… that one,” said the emperor, pointing at Valeria. “Senator Brocchus’ chick. The one with the really nice butt.”

Pandion hurried to Valeria’s side. “How are you feeling?” he asked her plainly.

Valeria smiled and shrugged. “Great,” she replied.

“You will **_sleep_** …” Pandion commanded, passing a hand over Valeria’s face.

Immediately, Valeria’s face went blank and her eyes closed. Her arms and head slumped.

Julia blinked in mild surprise. How had Pandion done that?

“Now,” Pandion said to the sleeping woman, “when I snap my fingers, you will awaken. Anytime I or the emperor clap our hands, you will immediately rub your own rear end with both hands. At the same time, you will exclaim, ‘ _Don’t I have a cute butt?_ ’ and this will feel incredibly fun and exciting to you. However, once you have finished speaking, the urge to rub yourself will vanish from your mind, and you will continue doing what you were doing before. You will have no memory of obeying these commands. Awaken now!” Pandion snapped his fingers, exactly once.

Valeria straightened, briefly rubbing her eyes. She smiled at the emperor, absently-mindedly patting her hair.

“What the fuck was that?” the emperor frowned, looking insulted. “Are you two playing some kind of-“

Pandion clapped his hands.

Without hesitation, Valeria adopted a sultry expression. She pivoted on her feet, shifting all her weight onto one leg. This forced her to jut her chest and rear end outwards. Valeria’s two delicate hands immediately swarmed over her protruding tush.

“Don’t I have a cute butt?” she squealed, sighing in delight.

And then, once the words had left her lips, Valeria straightened and faced the emperor squarely, just as she had been standing before. She smiled sweetly.

The emperor looked astounded. “What…?” he glowered. “The wives of Imperial senators don’t behave like this!”

“She is **_hypnotized_** , great Caesar,” replied Pandion. “She has no choice but to obey.”

Valeria was puzzled. “Obey what?” she asked.

But Pandion ignored her. He moved to Drusilla, ordering her to “ ** _Sleep!_** ” Once the black-haired women fell into a trance, he programmed her, “And whenever I or the emperor clap once, you will rub your crotch, and say, ‘ _I want Caesar to fuck me._ ’ And then you will forget.” Awaken!”

Drusilla came back to life. Pandion clapped.

Valeria giggled, “Don’t I have a cute butt?” while fondling herself.

“I want Caesar to fuck me!” Drusilla moaned at the same time, rubbing herself.

Both ladies returned to their original postures, smiling sweetly.

The emperor stared openly. Then, with an almost disbelieving look on his face, he clapped his hands.

“Don’t I have a cute butt?” preened Valeria.

“I want Caesar to fuck me…!” sighed Drusilla at the same time. Then both women stood straight, as before.

“Why did you do that?” the emperor demanded.

Drusilla smiled sweetly. “Do what, great Caesar?”

“They don’t remember, sire,” Pandion informed the Master of Rome, grinning in triumph. “Their minds are ruled by hypnosis now.”

The emperor rubbed his chin as he leaned forward. He pointed at Julia. “I want that one to show me her tits,” he demanded.

Pandion shrugged, then approached his wife. Before Julia could say anything to him, he commanded her, “ ** _Sleep!_** ”

It was as if the world faded away in that moment. Julia found herself floating inside a vast, gentle cloud, her body sighing with contentment from head to toe. Her thoughts vanished, and she happily basked in this dreamless utopia. Somewhere, far away, Pandion was speaking to her, commanding her to…

“Awaken!” her husband cried.

Julia’s eyes fluttered open. Where was she?

Oh, yes. Standing before the emperor. Why, just a second ago-

The emperor clapped his hands.

Before she knew what she was doing, Julia’s hands were peeling down the top of her dress. She arched her back, so that when her breasts spilled out into the open air, they bounced forward.

“I want Caesar to suck my nipples!” Julia excitedly declared, moaning a little as she spoke.

Beside her, she heard her sisters say: “Don’t I have a cute butt?” and “I want Caesar to fuck me!”

And then, Julia sensed her hands were squeezing her chest back into her dress. In a flash, the motion was over, and…

She blinked. Had something just happened? No… No, Julia had been quietly standing here the whole time. Why-

The emperor clapped.

“I want Caesar to suck my nipples!” Julia proclaimed, pulling down her top once more. Valeria and Drusilla were also speaking. But the moment passed, and Julia forgot the incident once more.

Moving quickly, the emperor jumped off his dais and approached. He gazed at Julia in wonder.

“How do I use this power?” he demanded of Pandion.

“Like this, Great Caesar,” Pandion replied, and once again commanded Julia to “ ** _Sleep!_** ”

Julia descended into a thoughtless slumber and knew no more.

*** *** ***

For perhaps ages, Julia floated within her trance, aware of nothing, yet listening intently. Pandion and the emperor seemed to be her masters, and she felt nothing but complete obedience to them. She felt happy to obey their slightest wishes.

“The magic of hypnosis originated with the Greeks,” Pandion was explaining to his king. “But somehow my wife learned of a magical way to use it, here in Rome.”

“How long will these women remain hypnotized?” the emperor wanted to know.

“Ah, this is the best part, great Caesar,” said Pandion proudly. “Like a butterfly once their wings have been touched, a person hypnotized by this magic cannot ever think independently again for the rest of their lives.”

“These women look as if they are dazzled,” the emperor observed. “What good is that to me if they obey my commands but act like this spacy all the time? When their husbands see them, they’ll know something’s up.”

“No, no, my liege,” fawned Pandion. “Right now, yes, the ladies are slightly in a trance. But you can program them to awaken completely, return to their lives, and never remember what has happened here. And they will go back to their husbands, completely unaware that they are your mental slaves. Later, when you wish it, you can place them back into hypnosis, and do whatever you wish to them.”

“Ah,” mused the emperor, pleased. “So the next time Senator Brocchus opposes me in the Senate, I can snap my fingers, and his very wife will be naked in my bed, sweating and moaning for me to fuck her ass?”

“Exactly,” Pandion replied. “And while she is under your spell, she will believe and obey any command you place in her head. **_Any_** command, great Caesar.”

Julia felt a man’s hands on her breasts. Inside her trance, she smiled slightly.

“Awaken this one,” demanded the emperor. “I want to see her totally nude.”

Pandion’s voice filled Julia’s mind. “And now, you will awaken. Whenever the emperor commands you, you feel an irresistible desire to obey him.”

More instructions followed. And then, Julia felt her body rousing back to life. She blinked her eyes open, awareness of her surroundings flooding back to her.

The emperor stood directly before Julia, his handsome face watching her with a predator’s hunger. “You are most beautiful,” he told Julia plainly.

Julia blushed. “Thank you, great Caesar,” she murmured.

“Normally, I like my women skinny,” the monarch remarked. “Skinny, with squishy asses. But you have a rich, full chest. You make me want to suck on them.”

Such forthcoming language startled Julia. Did the emperor speak to all young women like this?

“Recently, I had a fantasy,” the handsome young man continued. “I have several bedchambers, throughout the palace. There’s one just over there, just behind those doors. I had thought of purchasing a pleasure-girl, who would never put on clothes, simply wait for me there, lying on my bed, buck-naked. That way, when I get bored with affairs of state, I can pause for a quick fuck without having to travel far.” The emperor stepped closer. “Maybe you should be that pleasure-girl, eh?”

“I live to serve you, master,” Julia said automatically.

The emperor grinned lustfully, and leaned forward. His eager, soft hands grasped Julia’s breasts once more, and he lifted them up to his rough lips.

To her shock, Julia realized that she was completely naked! When had she removed her dress?

Oh, wait… Now that Julia jogged her memory, she recalled shimmying out of her garment as the emperor had been talking. Actually, it was more like her hands had undressed her all on their own. She had only been dimly aware of what they were doing. How odd.

But as the emperor kissed her chest and stimulated her nipples, Julia’s thoughts soon slipped from any thoughts about her mysterious nakedness. She was growing aroused. And although she knew it was forbidden to touch the emperor, she grasped his hair, willing him to kiss her more roughly.

The emperor pulled Julia against him, moving his mouth to her neck, and grasping at her buttocks. His body was lean and firm. Julia gasped with delight as she felt the rigid, imperial cock press against her.

“Mmm,” grinned the emperor. He slapped Julia on the bum, once, then stepped away. “Yes! Yes, I love this.” He fixed his fiercest glare upon Pandion. “Show me how to hypnotize and command them.”

*** *** ***

The next hour was the strangest in Julia’s life. Pandion, and then the emperor, put her and the other women in and out of trance many times. Each time she awoke, Julia felt herself possessed of new, strange desires. Once, she gleefully helped to undress Drusilla, and then the two women could not keep their hands off one another. Another time, Julia awoke completely believing that she was Voluptas, the Roman goddess of sex. At the emperor’s command, she happily seduced one of his muscular Pretorian guards, and would have fucked the man right there on the audience chamber’s floor, had not the emperor commanded her to cease. A third time, Julia and Valeria and Aquilia found that they could not stop kissing one another or caressing each other’s nude bodies. Julia was aching for an orgasm, either from a man’s cock or a woman’s tongue.

“Yes, yes, yes!” the emperor grinned, actually bouncing on his heels. Before him, Drusilla, Tarquinia, and Scribonia were hypnotized to believe that they were horny rabbits. They hopped about on all fours, eagerly snuggling and trying to work out how to hump one another. The emperor laughed. “Yes! An excellent gift, Pandion, absolutely excellent!”

“Thank you, great Caesar,” the Greek responded, bowing low.

“I want to do this to every young woman in Rome,” the emperor announced, pointing at the women. “Show me how to hypnotize other people.”

“Ah,” said Pandion slyly. Julia saw her husband dip his fingers into the coin-purse on his belt. He removed the crystal disk, then palmed it tightly. “Well, I am most happy to show you, great Caesar. But we cannot do it here.”

“Eh?” the emperor grunted, still watching the hypnotized women kissing and pulling at one another’s bodies. “Why not?”

“The secret of hypnosis can’t be spoken of openly,” Pandion lied skillfully. “Why, if another man heard me tell you how it works, they could gain the power, no? I could only tell you in private.”

The emperor was still distracted by the orgy forming before him. “Mmm? Very well. I have an office over there. You and I will duck in there.” His voice hardened. “But you’ll tell me everything, understand?”

“Of course, master,” Pandion smirked, bowing low.

“Out of all of these lovelies…” the emperor mused, scanning the women, “…I think I want to fuck… **_her_** first.” He pointed to Julia.

Julia beamed with pleasure.

“Of course, of course, Great One,” scraped Pandion.

“Wait,” the emperor frowned, studying Julia’s lovely face. “Whose wife is she, again? Senator Quintilius, was it?”

“Oh no, my Caesar,” Pandion replied. “Why, she is my own wife. She is the one who discovered hypnosis for me, actually.”

The emperor frowned. “Wait. You hypnotized your own wife, and now you’re offering her as a toy for my pleasure?” The monarch’s voice was filled with disbelief.

Pandion’s smile faded. “Well… Great Caesar… I actually… Well, you see, many men have told me that Julia here is the most beautiful woman in Rome.”

“That she is,” the emperor agreed. “But what kind of man betrays his own wife to a life of mindless slavery?”

Pandion swallowed. “I… Well… Betrayal is life, my lord.”

Now the emperor looked disgusted. “ ** _Betrayal is life?_** ” he parroted. “What kind of fucked-up philosophy is that?”

Now alarmed, Pandion stammered, unable to speak. The best he could manage was, “I… ah… sire… well…”

“A dude who would betray his own wife would fuck over me in a second,” said the emperor coldly. He made a hand signal. The Pretorian guard stepped forward, their hands moving to their swords.

“Wait… wait…!” Pandion sputtered. “No, sire, listen to me!”

“Take him away,” barked the emperor.

In a flash, Pandion whipped up the crystal coin. “Look here, Majesty!” he urged. “Look deep within! Look and-“

But even as the emperor’s gaze fell upon the magic talisman, the guards struck. Two of them plunged their swords deep into Pandion’s stomach, causing the Greek to shriek and writhe in agony. He dropped the coin, which shattered into a thousand pieces on the marble floor.

“Take off his head,” the emperor said contemptuously. “Then dispose of the rest.”

Horrified, Julia held her hands over her mouth.

“Look at me, toots,” the emperor commanded her. “ ** _Sleep!_** ”

Julia was unable to resist the command to return into a trance. She fell into a deep sleep immediately.

“Listen to me,” the emperor commanded, deep within her mind. “When you next awaken, you will forget your previous life. You will completely forget your treacherous husband. No, from now on, you believe that you are my favorite pleasure-girl. You will live in my private bedchamber, happy to remain nude and wait for me all day long.

“And when I fuck you,” the emperor growled, “you will have the most tremendous orgasms, orgasms that are beyond anything you have ever felt before. I will be the greatest lover you have ever known. And you will be the greatest gift I have ever received.”

Inside her mind… Julia smiled.

*** *** ***


End file.
